Here Goes Nothing
by Jesse Hayes
Summary: COMPLETE Bender is reunited with his daughter after 15 years. He's managed to distance himself from the Breakfast Club over the years, but now he has to face all of his old attachments.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Thanks to Kendall for her beta-ing, and letting me bounce ideas off her. This probably would have stayed in a notebook forever if she didn't encourage me to put it up here. Thanks, K!

**Chapter 1**

I recognize her the moment I see her, though it's from behind, and I haven't seen a picture that isn't at least 5 years old. Her hair is a dark shade of reddish brown, and falling straight down onto her shoulders. She is wearing black canvas shoes that look like they've seen better days, and a few layers of factory torn, black clothes. I can see the outline of a pack of cigarettes in her pocket.

"Just fuckin' tell John Bender that Taylor Standish is here to see him." She sounds angry. I wonder if she has a Bettie Page haircut, like all the other girls that pretend to be tough. "That shouldn't be too hard, should it?"

"Look kid, he's a busy guy, he's not gonna take the time to train up some young girly like you," Travis says. He's one of the few people I enjoy talking to. Though no one comes close to the other four. The four I've managed to distance myself from over the years.

"I got it, Travis," I say, walking towards my office. She whirls around, her expression still angry from her dealings with Travis, but there is something a little more to it as well. Surprise maybe, or hope.

I hold open my office door for her, and she looks me over as she passes through. She doesn't have bangs, thank god.

"Your mother know you're here?" I ask as soon as the door is closed. She flops down on the grungy couch.

"No," she grunts.

"Good," I sit on my desk.

"I want a job," she says quickly. Straight and to the point.

"Can you work on a car?" I ask, raising one of my eyebrows just slightly.

"What are you, stupid? You think I'd ask for a job I can't do?" she raises the same eyebrow. It's eerie, almost like me controlling her mother's face. I try not to smirk at her, since she was trying to offend me. I can't blame her.

"Why should I give you a job?"

"Cause if you don't I'll sue in October for backed child support." It's been eighteen years already. Shit.

We're both silent for a while, judging each other.

"Fine. You can start Monday. But you're not allowed to wear that black shit on your eyes." Allison. Thoughts of Allison. And that day.

She says the worst thing possible;

"I like the black shit."

Her mother told me the story. I have to wonder if maybe she hears the stories too. It takes me a moment to speak again.

"Why aren't you leaving?"

"I need a place to crash until I can get my own apartment." Her brown eyes are digging into me. They're not soft and innocent looking like her mother's were.

"Fine." I said. It was settled.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks again to Kendall. She's a Goddess. All hail Kendall!

**

Chapter 2

**

It's late when we arrive at my apartment. I can tell by Taylor's reaction to the place that she considers herself a "tough girl", but her mother's taste for finer things had been passed down. She's still by the door as I started towards the kitchen. I throw my keys on the counter and feel the need to make an excuse.

"I don't have a guest bedroom or anything, so you get the couch," I say. I want to keep this businesslike. I can't afford to get attached now after I took so much time distancing myself from her sixteen years ago.

"Ok," is all she says, but I can see the wheels turning. She throws her tattered backpack onto the couch to claim it, and its contents spill. A change of clothes, make-up, a wad of money, a couple of worn notebooks and a handful of Bic pens.

She seems to have forgotten I'm there, as she pulls out a cigarette and lights it, then heads to the kitchen. I lean against the wall to watch her. She really is a great blend of the two of us. Taylor moves like her mother. The refrigerator proves to be a good distraction for her, but she's quick to disapprove again.

"Bud? Christ, if you're gonna buy cheap beer you might as well get Blue Ribbon," she says, but opens one anyway. And kicks the door shut.

"Kid, you have manners or what?" I ask. She looks at me for a minute, her cigarette hanging out of her mouth, and she reluctantly goes back into the fridge, getting one for her dear old dad. It soars through the air in an arc as she tosses it to me.

Once she's back in the living room she stuffs everything back into her bag and flops onto the couch again. I'm forced to wonder how much her flopping must have annoyed her mother. It makes me smile just a bit.

"I'm gonna guess from the condition of your refrigerator that your pantry's even worse," she says, putting her feet on the coffee table.

"Do you have a point?" I ask.

Her eyes narrow just slightly, "What are you going to feed me?"

"Order something," I say, and start towards my bathroom to take a shower.

"You paying for it, Daddy Warbucks?" she asks, getting rid of the ash on her cigarette. I throw my wallet at her.

"One, I know how much money is in there, don't get any bright ideas. Two, don't ever reference musical theater again."

"I'm not a thief," she's quick to say, but I can see the corner of her mouth fighting a grin.

"No olives," is all I reply as I go towards the shower to rid myself of a day's worth of grime.


	3. Chapter 3

**

Chapter 3

**

After I finish my shower I look in the mirror. I pull a comb through my hair and try not to notice that my forehead is a little bit bigger than it was last year. I also take notice of the three days of stubble I've neglected. As I pick up my razor, I can't believe I'm worried about what she thinks of me.

Or worse, what she'll say to her mother when she inevitably shows up.

She will, of course. Because I will never be rid of Claire Standish.

When I finally make it out to the living room again, she's on her third can of beer, and her shoes are off. There's an unopened can next to my cigarettes. She's watching something on Court TV about forensics. At least it's not CSI or something.

"Slow down, kid." I sit down next to her, and light a cigarette. She doesn't even seem to take notice of me. She makes a show of finishing her beer, knowing I'm watching, and sets it down too loudly. When it's apparent to me that she's not going after that other can, I grab it for myself.

"So, uh… why are you here?" I ask.

"Don't try to be my dad now," she commands. I might take offense if I'm any other guy in the world, but I see her point. And considering the shit I took from my old man, I know what not to do.

We watch the end of the episode, and another of the same series begins. There's a knock at the door and she leaps of the couch to answer it. It's the food of course, and she flirts with the delivery boy, a greasy looking college kid. For some reason unknown to me, I suddenly feel very protective of her. I can feel my fists clenching as I listen to some pizza boy hit on my daughter. She finishes and closes the door with her foot. A pizza box and a small Styrofoam container get put on the coffee table. Then she flops down. All this flopping and leaping is going to make me dizzy.

Hot wings and a supreme pizza, with olives on half. She takes a slice with olives. After my first slice I need something else to drink. As I make my way back to the kitchen she calls, "Get me one too!"

"I think you're fine," I say, not even meaning too.

"What? You're cutting me off?" and she laughs. I hadn't meant to say it, but I was still a bit unrecognizable to myself after the pizza boy incident. I decided to grab what was left of the case and just bring it over. It goes on the coffee table next to the pizza.

Something does have to be said for pizza and beer.


	4. Chapter 4

**

Chapter 4

**

By the time I woke the next morning half the day was gone. It only took me a moment to realize what had woken me up; a vacuum cleaner. I don't own a fucking vacuum cleaner.

I dress quickly and go into the living room, where I see Taylor swinging the contraption back and forth over the carpet. The coffee table has been wiped down, all of the trash has been thrown away, and everything has been dusted. Even the couch looks cleaner than I can remember. I smell coffee. I don't own a coffee pot either.

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask.

"This is called cleaning. Obviously a foreign concept to you…." She answers. She's cleaning in her underwear. Black panties and a blue striped bra. She has a tattoo on the small of her back.

"Where'd you get the vacuum?" I ask. I start towards the kitchen to inspect the coffee smell. Maybe I'm going crazy.

"The lady across the hall," she answers simply. As soon as I reach the kitchen I realize she's hit here too. The counters have all been scrubbed and all the dirty dishes have vanished from the sink. Holy Christ, what have a gotten myself into?

"Picked up a babysitting job too," she adds. Shit. The single mom in 302. She's not even thirty yet and she's got three insane little brats. All boys. She keeps hitting on me. I keep avoiding her. And now, apparently, I've borrowed her vacuum.

And, opposite the sink, sits Mr. Coffee. My third roommate.

"Where'd this come from?"

"I bought it," she says, turning off the vacuum.

"With what?" I ask, getting myself a mug from the cupboard.

"Your credit card." She rolls up the cord and rolls the vacuum into my bedroom.

"I thought you said you weren't a thief," I said, opening the fridge to see if the milk has soured yet. To my great surprise, new groceries pack my refrigerator. I forgot what it's like to live with a woman.

"Pardon me for wanting to eat," she says. "You can do your own room, but she wants it back tonight. She's OCD or something."

Next to the milk there's a case of beer, and there's a new pack of cigarettes on the counter next to my car keys. My brand, not hers. "How'd you get to the store?"

"How do you think?" she says, lighting a cigarette for herself. I can't get mad at her. I did the same thing all the time. And I don't want to be one of those lame, hypocritical dads. Shit. I'm in deep.

She pulls out one of her notebooks and a pen, and opens it up. She writes quickly, but I don't want to ask about what. Maybe it's one of those teenage girly things. Besides, Captain Crunch and I have an appointment, so I don't really care.

"What are you doing today?" she asks, scribbling away.

I have to think for a moment, then clear my mouth of cereal goodness. "I don't know."

"Good, I'm taking the car again," she says, stubbing out her cigarette.

"Where?" I don't really care, I just want it back in one piece.

"I have to register for school, the semester starts soon," she answers, completely absorbed in her writing.

"You're going back to school?" I had assumed last night, since she showed up here in Chicago, that she had left Shermer High long behind.

"No, the community college, retardo," she says. "I'm done with High School."

This confuses me. Claire is usually pretty good about sending me Taylor's report cards and things like that. Always trying to keep me connected or something. I figured I would have gotten a graduation announcement at least. "When did you graduate?"

"I didn't, I got my G.E.D."

I have to hold back laughter, "You're mother let you do that?"

"Mom is easily controlled," is all she says. I watch her from the kitchen for a bit, sipping my coffee. Taylor suddenly sighs heavily and looks over at me impatiently.

"What?" is all she says.

"What?" I say back.

"You want to know what I meant by that. I know you do." She's grinning slightly at me. A know-it-all smirk. It's almost sickening how much this kid is like me. More proof for the nature versus nurture theory. It must drive Claire crazy.

"Fine," I sigh, pretending not to be interested. Anything that bugs the Queen of Shermer, Illinois is bound to entertain me.

"Mom just popped out Mr. Cleaver's second puppy yesterday. Or maybe today, I don't know. I jumped ship as soon as her water broke. Figured she'd be too distracted to come after me. She'd put me under house arrest." Taylor says, picking her pen back up and doodling in the top corner of the page she's writing on.

She's baiting me again. She might be rude and brass like me, but she's manipulative like her mother. I sigh, "Go on."

"Well, mom wasn't too thrilled by the fact that we were pregnant at the same time." I feel someone hit me in the stomach. Hard. I think his name is Irony.

"What?" I stutter, spewing cereal on the freshly cleaned counter.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, John, I'm not really preggers. I just told her that, cause I knew she'd not want me to go back to school. By the time I was done with the waterworks she was thinking the G.E.D. was her idea." Taylor is smiling at herself. She's obviously very proud of her work. "Then I just waited till she popped, took some advanced allowance from Bill's wallet, and split. And voila, this lovely reunion."

Now I'm smiling. She is soooo my kid.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thanks for the comments everyone! I had this paralyzing fear that no one was going to read it, lol. Thanks so much for all of the constructive critcism! One thing of note though... when I set out writing this I had just Beta-ed Kendall's 'A Sad Song for No One', where she tried using a minimalistic, present tense. It was really interesting, and I figured I might give the minimalist thing a try. The next fic will be nice and toothsome, I promise. )

**Chapter 5**

I spend most of the day just lounging around my own apartment. My car is gone, currently somewhere in Chicago, being driven by my seventeen year old daughter. If that's not a frightening thought, I don't know what is. After the third rerun of Law & Order SVU I'm starting to feel pretty pathetic. Yeah, Jane Mansfield's daughter is smoking hot and looks just like her, but three hours? In a row? I need a life.

On a normal Saturday I would be… honestly, I'd still be sleeping. Then I'd go out to the bars with some of the guys from the garage and try to pick someone up.

And then sitting here in my living room, by myself, while my nearly adult daughter is gone, I realize my life is completely pathetic. It was great in High School. It was better for a while after High School. Even when Taylor came along, things were still fun. But somewhere along these years I've stopped having fun and I didn't even know it.

Now I'm thoroughly depressed and I need to get drunk.

Taylor walks through the door. "You're back soon," I say.

All I get in response is a grunt, and she throws her bag on the floor next to the couch. It spills again, this time dumping computer disks and an iPod. Spoiled rich kid.

"What classes did you sign up for?" I ask in an attempt to bring on a little social interaction. She throws the car keys on the counter.

"None of your fucking business," she responds, and slams the bathroom door. The shower starts moments later, and I realize I have set the delicate female temperament askew.

After that it's an easy decision. I change into a shirt that is either clean, or clean enough, I can't tell, and I grab my car keys. I need to get wasted.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

There's only one place I will go on a Saturday night, and that's Stubby's, down on the Southside. Not very many people go there, and the tourists definitely keep far away. It's a little farther away from the building I'm in now, but it's worth the trip. I've known Stu, the owner, for years, and half the time I don't have to pay for my drinks.

By the time I walk into the bar, Travis and Dave are already one beer ahead of me. As soon as Stu sees me walk in, he starts to fill one for me. I take a seat next to Dave at the bar as Stu hands me my drink.

"Hey man, you're late," Dave says, clapping me on the shoulder.

"Ya, sorry," I mumble, wanting to catch up quickly.

"So what's the story with that little filly?" Travis asks.

"Little filly?" I mock. "Travis, where's your ten gallon hat?"

"Shut your fuckin' mouth. How's that?" He grins.

"Oh, that kid that came in yesterday morning?" Dave asks. I'm sure the 'office gossip' took no time to spread at the garage's proverbial water cooler.

"You gonna give her a job?" Travis seems persistent. He's probably the closest thing I have to a real friend, so I'm sure he knows I'm holding out on him.

"Have to," I mutter, very involved in my beer again.

"Eh, put her up front. A pair of tits like that'll up the customers," Dave says. Without thinking, I elbow him hard in the ribs, causing him to slosh half his beer on him and the counter.

"What the fuck, man?" he asks, while Travis has burst into laughter. I feel like I'm back in high school.

"She's going to work with us, not for us, got it? I don't ever want to hear you talk about her like that again," I warn. It takes me only a moment to realize what I've done and silently kick myself. Two days ago I didn't give a rat's ass about the girl, and now I'm hitting my drinking buddies for noticing the ample accessories Claire genetically bestowed upon her.

"Jesus, Bender, what's crawled up your ass?" Travis asks. I take a moment to wonder whether or not to explain who Taylor is. After all, Travis is a grandfather a few times over, and Dave and his girlfriend just had their first baby a few months ago. They would understand, right?

"Nothing, I just know the kid's mom. Old friend from High School," is all I can manage to say instead. Stu puts another beer in front of me.

Dave has finished wiping himself off with napkins, when he takes a five out of his wallet and puts it on the counter for Stu. He stands to finish his beer and replace his wallet in his pocket.

"Where you going?" Travis asks.

"Shelly is taking the baby to see her parents. Said she wanted me to come along," he explains briefly. "You know how that goes," he says, smacking Travis on the shoulder. "See you guys Monday."

"Later Dave," I say, and Travis nods. As soon as Dave's left, Travis scoots over next to me.

"So how long have you known the kid's yours?" he asks. Sometimes his perception astounds me.

"I've always known, just didn't expect her to show up," I say, finishing my first beer and setting down the empty stein.

"Ah," he says. He's quiet for a long moment. There are only a few other people in the bar. A tattooed kid with a lip piercing setting up with his band, and someone that should be keeping his pimp hand strong loitering by the bathroom. "Happened to me once. Cheryl didn't take it too well at first, but it all blew over."

"What?"

"My oldest, Jeff, I had with my High School sweetheart. I didn't know it till after I got back from 'Nam and was already with Cheryl. But then Helen shows up, turns out she got married after I shipped out, but the kid was mine. Then her hubby ups and dies on her, she wants to leave Jeff with us. Cheryl was already expecting Sophie at this point, so you can imagine how well things went over. But, what is, is. And it didn't change anything in the long run," Travis explains.

"And the point of this is?" I ask.

"I don't really know. Just thought there might be some wisdom in there somewhere for you," he says, taking a swig. I can't help but grin a little. Somehow, I imagine Brian might have turned out like this if he had been born into a completely Un-Brady family. A pang goes through me, but I quickly drown it. No point in thinking about them now.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I know this one is short, but it's from John's point of view, and he's 3 sheets to the wind. How articulate are you under the influence? ; ) Anyway, thanks for all of the reviews! I promise all will be revealed in due time! -L

**Chapter 7**

I get back from Stubby's around 3, and stumble in. The lights are all off, but I can plainly see Taylor's outline on the couch. She's snoring lightly. I laugh at her, but clasp a hand over my mouth quickly, no point in waking her up.

The apartment smells funny, like Pinesol or something. I wonder if she cleaned more. When I finally stumble into my bedroom, I see that she has. Clean your own room, my ass. My bed's even made. I lean against the wall to pull my shoes off and try to tiptoe back into the living room.

The light from the bottom of the microwave is just enough to see the room in front of me. I kneel down next to the couch and push Taylor's hair off her forehead. I can see, even in the dark, that she still has the scar I gave her over her right eyebrow.

"Sorry," I mumble, and kiss her forehead. With great effort, and hopefully not too much noise, I take a couple of aspirin and collapse into bed.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: The whole thing is almost finished, and you'll find everything out in Chapter 14. Thanks so much for all of your reviews!

**Chapter 8 **

The next morning is surprisingly easy, hangover wise. I wake up with no headache, just a dry mouth and cold feet. After a quick shower and cleanish clothes, I go into the kitchen. Taylor is on the couch again, this time with a stack of Styrofoam containers in front of her. She's chewing on a handful of fries while she writes in one of her notebooks. She's wearing her bra and a pair of boxers rolled up at the waist.

"Morning, sunshine," she says.

I shuffle into the kitchen, pushing my shaggy hair out of my face and getting some coffee. I'm actually happy to see my third roommate this morning.

"That's coming with me, you know," she says, taking another few fries from the container in front of her.

"What?" I'm not the most articulate first thing in the afternoon.

"When I get my place. That's mine," she says.

"Didn't I pay for it?" I say.

"Let's not start a list of things you did or didn't pay for where I'm concerned, ok? It's not a game you can win." Her words only sting because they're true. But honestly, Claire didn't need any financial help from me. Granted, she had to cut back from a BMW to a Buick. What hardship.

"What are you always writing?" I ask, rummaging through the fridge. There's actually produce in it. I don't think there's ever been produce in this apartment before.

"Nunya," she says, drinking from a two liter of Dr. Pepper.

"Nunya?" I ask.

"Nunya fucking business," she says, wiping her fingers on the boxers.

"That was lame," I say.

"So's the word 'lame'," she responds.

"How'd you pay for that?" I ask, having another meeting with the Captain. Crunch, of course. Not Morgan. We caught up last night.

"I babysat last night," she says. "Speaking of money, when can I get my first paycheck so I can rent an apartment?"

"Two weeks from now," I say through crunchy, sugary goodness.

"Good. I'll give you my schedule. School starts next week," she says, thoroughly distracted by whatever she's writing.

"When are your classes?"

"In the morning," Taylor says.

"The garage closes at six, you'll probably only be able to work half time," I say.

She turns her dark eyes on me, and they're suddenly malicious. "I need a full paycheck," she says, her voice low and almost menacing. She sets aside her notebook.

"Not my problem, babe," I shrug.

"Oh yes it is," she stands from the couch. "Don't think of me as some charity case, old man. Consider this blackmail." With that, she grabs the laundry basket by the door and stomps into the hallway.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 **

After the reminder that she is blackmailing me, we spend a long, awkward afternoon in silence. Around five she leaves, simply announcing that she's taking my car again. Feeling bad for, well, god knows what, I decide to make a gesture. It's nothing big, but it's the least I can do to say, "Sorry I was such a loser of a dad." Cause I'm sure Mr. Brady, or whoever the hell Claire is married to now, is some retard of a step dad. Probably always trying too hard and coming off hokey or something.

Spaghetti is easy. It's probably one of the only things I can make. Not too much brain power is required. Boil water, add noodles, drain said noodles. Open can, heat sauce. Not brain surgery. And it seems I have psychic powers or something, cause it finishes just as Taylor comes back in. She's fuming again, but not the brooding kind. This time it's the need-to-punch-a-wall kind.

Wordlessly, she throws her bag on the floor again, this time her wallet and a pair of rolled up black socks coming out. I dish up two plates and head into the living room. I set one down in front of her with a fork and leave mine on the coffee table to go get us some beers.

"Thanks," she mumbles, and starts shoveling it in.

"No prob," I answer. I decide to stay quiet. The last few times I pried, she lashed out like an angry pit bull. Maybe if I keep my mouth shut she'll talk.

Sure enough; "I can't believe she thought I ran off to get an abortion."

"When'd you talk to her?" I ask. Surprisingly, I'm actually interested.

"I called my friend Nikki first, just to check in. She told me mom had gone nuts looking for me as soon as they got back from the hospital. Had another boy by the way." She makes a retching noise. "Named this one Drew, surprise, surprise. But Nikki said after she called all my friends she put out a missing persons report. So I had to call her. Don't worry, I didn't tell her I was staying with you."

"She'll figure it out anyway," I say.

"I know she will, but this'll throw her off a little," Taylor shrugs and shoves more spaghetti into her mouth. "Abortion…." She mumbles angrily and puts another forkful in before she's done with the first one.

"What'd you expect? You told her you were knocked up," I say. Then hope I didn't ruin the whole 'cool dad' thing I had going for a minute.

"I know, but I didn't think she'd believe me. But, man, you should have seen the look on Grandma Natalie's face. It was priceless!" she bursts into laughter. I smile at this too, remembering what a nightmare Claire's mother is. "Like it's not a family tradition or something. She thinks I can't count. That, or Uncle Mark was a miracle baby. Full term in only 4 months, wow."

I laugh at this, and feel a moment of bonding coming on. "So what's the real reason you split?"

"School. I wanted to major in something that wasn't Business or Medicine, and Bill didn't want to pay for it if it was anything else. I figured the running away bit might help my case." I'm amazed at the power of spaghetti.

"You gonna go back?"

"Fuck no!" She laughs, and I join in.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

It's six in the morning when I hear the shower running. Six in the goddamn morning. What is she on?

I put my pillow over my head until the shower stops, and she steps out moments later, her eyes free of their black paste prison and a towel wrapped around her. She's long and lanky like me. Probably already taller than her mother.

"What time do we have to be at work?" she asks.

"Ten!" I shout from underneath my pillow.

"What?" She hasn't heard me.

I remove the pillow. "Ten! Go back to sleep!"

"Screw that, I'm gonna go get breakfast. What time do you want to leave?" she asks, running a towel through her hair.

"Go. Away."

She sighs, but leaves anyway. I don't know when she finally leaves the apartment, because I promptly fall back asleep.

When I do wake up for the day, three hours later, I take a quick shower and get ready for work. Taylor is watching MTV in the living room, writing in her notebook again. I'm actually starting to get interested in what she's writing. Maybe it's one of those girly journals. In that case, I'm not interested.

"Ready?" I ask, glancing at the cable box. 9:32.

"Finally," she says, turning off the TV and stuffing her notebook into her bag.

I decide we're going to take a detour. I stop by at Harry's, a bagel place towards the loop. Only the tourists that get tipped off by their hotel staff show up. Otherwise, it's just locals.

"Aren't we going to be late?" she asks after I pick out my bagel.

"Dave opens, we can be late," I answer. She orders a cinnamon raisin bagel with strawberry shmeer. Gross. "Didn't you already eat?"

"I'm always up for second breakfast," she says, then mumbles to herself, "Tricksey Hobbitses." She giggles to herself. And a terrifying thought strikes me; my daughter is a geek.

After we arrive at the garage, I park the Continental in the back and set Taylor to an oil change. I'm sure the kid can do it, but I want to watch her at first. And I know if I tried to put her at the front desk she'd flip.

She's pretty good. Fast, too. I let her take care of the other oil changes and a few tire rotations. By one o'clock I can tell she's getting bored. I go to the back, where she's putting the last tire on a minivan.

"Hey, Tay, wanna work on a busted Alternator?" I ask. She looks over.

"Definitely." She smiles and it's a little too sweet. "But if you ever call me Tay again you'll be walking funny for a week."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 **

On Monday the boys and I from the garage usually go out for a drink. Tonight though, Taylor's with us. Everyone is keeping an eye on her, though they pretty much agree that they like her. Travis was the first warm up to her this morning. Once everyone saw that Travis and I were okay with her, things all fell into place.

We pull into Garcia's and find a parking space relatively near the front door. Pretty lucky I guess. The few that have beaten us here are already sitting at the bar. Taylor and I take one of the high table and she picks up a menu.

"I'm starving," she announces. When isn't she? She eats more than – well, she eats a lot. That was close.

I get a Corona, and Taylor gets a Dr. Pepper. It's not long before the chips and salsa are brought to us. The rest of the guys are sitting at the bar, periodically coming over to say something. She orders fish tacos, something that is appalling in title alone. Well, and slightly dirty when you think about it. I order enchiladas.

"Can I ask you a question?" I say. She finishes her first soda.

"You can, but that doesn't mean you'll get an answer." The waitress sets down another glass. I knew it wouldn't take long. We're regulars and we get better service than the other customers. We tip better.

"Where'd you learn to work on cars?" I ask. A broad, wicked smile spreads across her face.

"Mom and Bill. They didn't realize they were funding my education, of course. I helped an ex-boyfriend rebuild his engine a few years ago, and I just realized I was really good at it. So I would go down in the middle of the night and punch holes in the hoses."

I laugh appreciatively.

"The first time they took it to a garage, even though I told them I could do it. Next time, on mom's, she let me do hers. Even paid me. Bad idea. They've paid me almost a grand in the last year." She's already half way through this soda.

"They didn't catch on?" I ask.

"Bill's not the brightest fella, and well, Mom doesn't think the worst of me yet." Taylor says. Her eyes turn dark and she suddenly seems fascinated by her napkin.

"Can I ask you a question?" she says, her voice sounding malicious. I'm hesitant to answer.

"Sure," I say, though I'm not quite sure what to expect.

"Why'd you leave us, sporto?" My insides flash. Two reasons, both of which make my stomach curdle.

"Don't ever call me that again," I warn. Her face is stubborn, but I can see the triumph in it. I haven't seen her in fifteen years. How does she know my buttons?

"Hey! Hey!" Dave calls. He and Matt carpool, and obviously Matt is driving tonight. "To Taylor! And her first Alternator!" he says. "Taylor's alternator!" He raises his beer. The other guys join in and toast her. It's corny almost, but it's made her smile the biggest I've ever seen. Somehow, I get the impression that Billy boy and the Princess don't give her the credit she deserves.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12 **

When we walk into the lobby of the building, I check the mailbox and pull a few things out of it. Cell phone bill, cable bill, one of those 'Have you Seen this Child?' things with a rug cleaner's coupon on the back. But it's the last one that makes my heart beat a little faster. It's card shaped, and the return address is 'Brian and Sarah Johnson, 423 S Washington Way, Shermer IL.'

"You gonna sleep down here or what?" Taylor asks. I turn around to see that she's no longer loitering in front of the elevator, but holding it open for me. I jog over and step in, and she moves her hand to let the doors close. It's a quick ride up to the third floor, and soon enough we're in the apartment. Taylor starts towards the shower, but I bypass the bathroom and go towards my closet. When I open it I'm met with a grisly discovery. My closet was not spared from my daughter's compulsive cleaning.

"Taylor!" I shout. My voice contains anger I don't really mean.

"What?" she asks, poking her head out of the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth.

"What did you do to my closet?" I ask, looking in vain at the spot where a grocery sack used to sit on the floor. She walks over and takes the card from Brian out of my hand. She sighs and rolls her eyes. Then with a quick rip of paper, the envelope is open. Like fucking Pandora's box. She still has the toothbrush in her mouth as she reads over it and then hands it to me.

Wordlessly, she goes back to the bathroom and leaves me alone with the Johnson family. There, on what looks like a postcard, sits a broad shouldered blond man with his pale wife. She could be a supermodel, way to go, Big Bry. Scattered around them on the grass are three toe-headed, skinny children, and the supermodel is holding an infant. There's a date on the bottom of the picture; August 1st, 2003.

The back reads; "Brian and Sarah are happy to announce the birth of Alexander Jordan Johnson. He was born on July 23, 2003, weighed 7 lbs., 1 oz., and was 19 inches long. He joins older sisters Marie and Ally, and older brother Josh."

I hear Taylor rinse and spit, and she comes back into my room, drying her hands on her pants. She makes a point of pushing in front of me, and pulls a cardboard box down from my closet shelf.

"I put all of your Breakfast Club stuff in this box, conveniently labeled 'Breakfast Club Stuff'." She puts the box on my bed and starts back towards the bathroom.

"You know about that?" I ask, scandalized. It feels strange that someone other than the five of us know that we called ourselves that.

"Of course I know about that. Half the meetings are at Mom's house," she shrugs. She looks impatient. Like she just wants me to shut up so she can get in the shower.

"Meetings?" I'm making it worse, but I feel like I'm a ship being blown out of the water. She knows more about my friends than I do.

"Yeah, if you bothered to give anyone anything other than a mailing address, or answered any of Uncle Brian's letters-"

"_Uncle_ Brian?" I interrupt.

"Yes, _Uncle_," she sneers. She gives me a look that sums up the biting remark about my lacking parenting skills, and slams the bathroom door.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

The next two weeks pass much like the first weekend did. Taylor spends most of her time quietly writing in her notebooks, and we spend our evenings watching TV and drinking together. There are only a few sarcastic exchanges of note, but she's been surprisingly guarded since Brian's son's birth announcement came. I don't know why she's holding out on me.

The Saturday when she gets her first paycheck, I have to help her rent an apartment, since she's not quite eighteen. There's an open one bedroom three floors above mine, so she rents it.

"That way I can still take the car for school," she says. I love that it's suddenly 'the' car instead of 'your' car. I try to mind, but I really don't give a shit. After we've got the apartment upstairs rented, we go looking for furniture with what's left of her check. I guess she'll still be using my cell phone and eating my food.

She spends the majority of the remainder on a TV, then finds a couch, a bed and some bedding at a thrift store. We load everything into or on the Continental, and then wrestle it all up to her apartment. I don't think the two of us have ever laughed so much together, trying to get the couch into the elevator while it's closing on her.

When we finally get everything up to the apartment, and through the door, we settle in. We plug in the TV, order a pizza and find something to watch. There's a Law & Order Marathon on. It's showing all three of them. I'm such a sucker for those shows. I just wish the original had a hot girl instead of the old guy from Dirty Dancing. I can't believe I just admitted to seeing that movie.

The pizza finally arrives, and it's the same greasy college guy. Taylor flirts with him again, and gives him a bigger tip than I would have.

"Did you guys move, or something?" he asks. He remembered her. Great.

"Oh, no. I just got my own place, my dad's still downstairs," she says. He smiles at her, and I hear something being written on cardboard. Damn it. When Taylor sets the pizzas on the floor in front of me, there's a name and phone number written on top of the box. I roll my eyes, but choose not to say anything after all.

The next episode is the newest one. The one with the short, hot girl, and the tall creepy guy. The victim is a doctor at an abortion clinic. I don't think anything of it until Taylor drops her slice of pizza a few minutes in, and bolts for the bathroom. She slams the door, but I don't hear it lock. The shower starts almost immediately, but I can still hear her throwing up. I knock, but there's no answer. I wait and listen a little more. She's stopped retching, and flushes the toilet.

"Taylor?" I ask, opening the bathroom door. What I see puts a weight in the bottom of my chest. She's sobbing, curled up against the wall in the shower with all her clothes still on. I choose not to say anything else, but push the glass door a little bit out of the way and climb in with her. She looks so small. It frightens me.

I silently wrap my arms around her and pull her onto me, holding her tightly. She doesn't protest, just keeps sobbing. She leans her head on my chest, as the shower soaks our legs. I just stay with her there, and push her hair out of her face, until her cries subside.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Thank you for all of your reviews! I love you guys!

**Chapter 14**

I sit there, holding her, and we're both soaking wet. She's stopped crying now, but she still hasn't tried to move from my arms. I'll wait.

When she finally moves, I help her dry off and get her dry clothes to change into. She throws up again, but I can't bring her water because she doesn't have any cups yet, so I turn down her sheets to get her bed ready for her. Almost as soon as she's in bed she looks asleep. I go to the door and turn the light off.

"Thanks," she says so quietly I almost don't hear her. I pause in the doorway, not knowing what to say back.

"Goodnight," is all that comes out. I turn off the rest of the lights and lock up her apartment. When I get back to mine, however, it feels emptier than ever. I'm not tired, but I have nothing else to do, so I dry off and change, then get into bed. I stare at the ceiling for a while, and all I can think about is the last time I held her in my arms like that. It was the night I left.

Claire and I had moved in together after graduation. Taylor was already on her way by then, and her parents had already split up. They finally called it quits the summer after we met. They both hated me; hated that Claire was seeing me. I guess they just couldn't handle agreeing on something, and split. Her dad moved to the city to be closer to work, and her mother kept the house in Shermer.

We moved into a little apartment near Main Street, and she got ready for school in the fall, while I went looking for work. Taylor came at the end of October. Things were a little crazy when we were first getting used to her, but she was a good baby, and hardly ever cried. Claire worked during the afternoon and went to school in the morning. I worked nights at a gas station on the outskirts of the city. We hardly ever saw each other, and when we did, it was usually as one of us was leaving while the other got back.

Being a dad was different, though. Different, but likeable. It was like having an audience that would always laugh. I could say whatever I wanted, and she loved it. As long as her belly was full and her diaper was empty. Which wasn't really that difficult.

The day I left was a Friday. It was the July before her second birthday. We always had dinner with Claire's mom on Friday nights. I worked Sunday through Thursday, so Friday was the first day of my weekend. By the time dinner rolled around I had been up for most of the day with Taylor, and my eyes and limbs were getting too heavy to keep up. Luckily, she had been up most of the day, too. Whenever she got tired, she would always want to be held. I had been holding her, walking her around the living room, talking quietly to her until she fell asleep. Once she did, I carefully went to the couch and laid down on it, careful not to let her fall off. She was in the crook of my arm, between my chest and the back of the couch. It didn't take me long to fall asleep.

I woke up to the sound of screaming. My body jumped as her shrieks pierced my ears. It only took me a second to realize that she was no longer in my arms. I looked over onto the floor, to see her sitting on the white carpet in a pool of bright red blood. I'd never felt such a jolt in my core. I scooped her up, just as Claire's mother came clicking through the foyer in her high heels. She was carrying a wooden spoon and had her apron on.

"What did you do?" she asked. I grabbed my scarf off the couch and pressed it to Taylor's bleeding forehead.

"I don't know," I admitted, before I could think of something to say. I was already covered in her blood.

"Oh, Jesus, get in the car, we've got to get to the hospital," her mother said. She always sounded annoyed with me. I couldn't really blame her, though. The drive to the hospital seemed like the longest part of that night. Taylor was crying the whole time. I had never heard her cry so much. It didn't even dawn on me to worry about the money.

They took her back right away, and I went with her. Natalie, Claire's mother, stayed out front. They had to give Taylor a sedative to calm her down and make her hold still enough for stitches. When they asked me what happened, the only thing I could think of was that she had hit her head on the edge of the coffee table.

Claire arrived just as they were wheeling Taylor off to be x-rayed, after she was out. She looked frantic. "What happened?" she asked. She hadn't even taken off her sweater.

"She fell and hit her head on the coffee table," I said.

A hand flew up to cover her mouth, "Oh, my god, is she all right?"

"They don't think she hurt her skull, but they're x-raying her right now," I answered. My arms were crossed over my chest. I was waiting for her to lecture me about being careless, about being a bad father, about this being the last straw and she was leaving me for good. I was always waiting for that. I couldn't read her face.

When she didn't say anything, I decided to pick the fight. I chose the easiest subject. "How are we going to pay for this?"

She rolled her eyes like she couldn't believe I was worrying about money. That was the difference between us on the subject. She didn't know what it was to worry. "My mother's paying for it."

"Oh, great," I huffed.

"What did you expect, John?" she said, her voice agitated. "We don't have any insurance."

"Ya, I know," I spat, the great beast that was my father's son roaring inside me. I swore I would never let him out.

"Shut up, that's not what I meant," she said. She knew better than to do anything that sounded like a personal attack.

"Don't tell me to shut up," I said. I was just being malicious. Natalie came in just then.

"Where's Taylor?" she demanded.

"Getting x-rayed," I said, making sure my tone was more spiteful towards her.

"Don't talk to me like that. You're the one that did this to her!" she cried.

"It was an accident!" I yelled, not even trying to keep my voice down.

"What? You said-" Claire sounded confused and hurt.

"She fell off the couch and hit her head!" I said. I could feel my defenses prickling up around me. I could have a shouting match with Claire. But having her mother there made me feel 16 again.

"There was blood all over the floor… all over my car," Natalie said, as if talking to herself. I knew full well she was trying to play Claire against me.

"Head wounds bleed," I said, trying to control my anger.

"And when did you go to medical school?" she sneered.

"It's common sense, bitch. Want me to prove it?" I said, losing all pretense.

Natalie gasped and flinched like I had raised a fist, while Claire cried, "John!"

"I told you Claire, I told you years ago he was violent. It's in the genes," she said, turning and applying desperately to her daughter.

"I've never hit her, you old bat," I said through gritted teeth.

"Doesn't mean you won't," she hissed. She was still holding on to Claire's sleeve.

I could feel the noise rising in my throat, ready to burst out in a guttural yell. My fists were closed so tightly my knuckles ached. I was standing still as a stone just glaring at Natalie.

"John," Claire said firmly, drawing my attention, but my eyes didn't leave her mother's plastic surgery altered face. "John, go have a cigarette."

I turned and looked at Claire. She had never used that tone on me before. Unemotional, cold; indifferent. I let the shout escape me and turned and swiped at the nearest thing I could find. I sent instruments scattering noisily across the floor. Both of them jumped. Claire was used to me throwing things when I was angry, but the noise must have spooked her. I stormed out of the ER and into the parking lot.

I sat down on the nearest bench I could find and lit a cigarette. I smoked the first one with my head leaned against the brick wall behind me, my eyes closed. The second one I took one drag from before leaning forward and putting my elbows on my knees, holding my head in my hands. They were covered in Taylor's dried blood.

The sliding glass doors opened beside me, and I heard the obnoxious click clack of the she-beast's shoes. "Her skull's not fractured." I didn't say anything back.

We stayed there in the humid summer air, both silent for a moment. I heard the flick of her lighter, and the smell of her Virginia Slims filled the air. "How long do I have to keep cleaning up after you?" she asked.

I didn't respond. I couldn't respond. I knew she was right.

I heard the scratching of a pen and paper tear. She stuck something in front of my face, and I was forced to look up. "Take it," she ordered, holding a check in front of me. "And get the hell away from my daughter."

I stood up and looked at her for a moment. I looked down at the check in her hand. It was made out in my name, for twenty five thousand dollars. I raised my head to hers, half unable to believe what she was doing it.

"Are you bribing me?" I asked.

"Take the money, John." It was the first and only time I remember her using my name. "All you have to do is stay away from them."

I looked at her cold brown eyes, and down at the check, then back up again. I ripped the check from her hand, and in one motion flicked my cigarette at her. She jumped back, swiping at the butt caught on her shirt, and I turned around and stomped to the car I shared with Claire.

I drove back to the apartment and gathered as little as I needed, put the keys on the counter, and hitched to Chicago.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Thanks for all of your reviews guys! I really appreciate them. If you spot anything out of whack, don't be afraid to tell me. That's what you guys are here for! )

**Chapter 15**

When I wake up my thoughts go to Taylor. I don't even bother to take a shower, or comb my hair, or do anything relatively hygiene related. I go to her apartment, but decide not to go in. I don't hear the TV or shower, so assume she's still in bed. Instead, I go to Harry's.

I buy two of her strange cinnamon raisin/strawberry bagels, a coffee mug with the store's logo on it, and a pound of coffee beans. I have the nerds behind the counter label the bagels '1st breakfast' and '2nd breakfast'. They laugh. I shake my head.

When I get back to our apartments, I put her bagels in the fridge and set up her coffee maker. When I finally crack the door into her dark bedroom, the first thing I see are her big eyes staring up at me.

"I got you breakfasts," I say.

"Thanks."

I go and kneel beside her bed, and push her hair out of her face so I can see it. "Do you need anything else?"

"A bubble bath," she says. We both laugh, though it's small and almost forced. Both our apartments only have showers. I wonder if she's waiting for me to disapprove, like her mother would have.

"Did you tell your mom about it?" I ask. I should have known better.

"Of course not. I can't," she says after a while.

"When?" I ask. I might be pushing my luck, but I don't care.

She sighs, closes her eyes. "The day I came to the garage." She's quiet again for a long time. "Can I use your cell phone?"

"Yeah," I say, pulling it out of my pocket.

"Hi, mom," I hear her say quietly as I leave the room. "I miss you, too." She won't tell her, I know she won't. She has to keep that lie alive. But I know what it's like to need to hear Claire's voice. That's what drove me to finally calling her ten years ago. The conversation had been slanted and awkward, and had resulted in me receiving an envelope of Taylor's first school pictures and a few of her drawings. I decide to leave her alone while she's on the phone, and step into the hallway.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

A brilliant idea hits me while I'm wasting time outside Taylor's apartment. The ride back down to the third floor takes almost no time at all. I have to summon the balls to knock on her door, but I do it anyway. 302. Just a favor. Nothing big. I can do this.

I raise my hand to the door and knock quickly, just below the numbers. I can hear the small boys behind the door arguing about who gets to open it. The oldest one wins.

"Mom! It's the hobo from across the hall!" he shouts. He's no older than eight.

"Micah!" she scolds, jogging from one of the bedrooms. I've never been inside, though she's tried to get me in there. "Go finish packing your backpack," she says to the oldest. He's got hair so blond it's almost white. He's eyeing me suspiciously, and I watch him right back.

"Sorry about that, John. He heard the word 'hobo' on TV, and now he's using it on everyone" She laughs. Flirt mode. Christ.

"Taylor's feeling a little under the weather, and I was wondering if we could borrow your bathtub," I say. Why do I suddenly feel like Brian?

"My bathtub?" She laughs again.

"She wants to take a bubble bath, but we only have a shower," I clarify. I can feel the geek level inside of me rising rapidly.

"Oh." She laughs. "Yeah! That's no problem. I was just about to take the boys to see their dad, actually. We'll be out for the rest of the morning, so feel free to come on over… wait," she says, stopping her rambling to hold up one manicured finger. She grabs a black leather purse from a side table and fishes around. After a moment, she manages to pull a key off of her key ring without breaking a nail, and hands it to me.

"Just have her lock up when she's done" She smiles at me. She must have been thrilled to find out I had a kid, too. The single moms are always looking for camaraderie.

"Okay, thanks, Leah," I say, trying my best to smile back at her. She smiles back and says something else I'm not really paying attention to now that I've gotten what I wanted out of her. It doesn't take long to get back up to Taylor to tell her what I've arranged for her. She's not the fastest out of bed, and she drags her feet to the elevator. I unlock the door and let her into Leah's apartment. It's fucking clean. Taylor was right about the OCD thing. I leave the keys with her and head back to my place so she can take her bath.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Monday comes around sooner than I would have expected. We make a tradition of going to Harry's for breakfast on Mondays, but this week Taylor has to drop me off at the garage so she can keep the car for school. It's her first day. Strange how Claire got to put her in jellies and pigtails and I just threw her my car keys.

The tires screaming are the first sign of her return. She parks haphazardly, screeching to a stop. If that wasn't enough to announce her mood to the rest of the boys and I, the look on her face finishes it for us. She stomps inside and pulls on a coverall.

Travis and Dave give me weary looks. This is her third week, and they're all very familiar with what a firecracker she is. I decide to push right back. No sense in letting a good opportunity go.

"Honey…" I sing as sickeningly sweet as possible. It works. She's glaring at me. "How was your first day of school?" I notice now that her hands are shaking.

"Sarah's my teacher," she says bitterly.

"Who?" I ask, leaving the car I was working on.

"Sarah Johnson. Aunt Sarah." She's trying to busy herself by looking at the board for her assignments today.

"The supermodel?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "She doesn't model anymore." Taylor scoffs. I quickly contain my grin. Way to go, indeed, Brian.

"What class is she teaching?" I ask. It dawns on me I don't even know what she's majoring in.

"Creative Writing," she answers before she can think to be hesitant. I picture her endless hours of scratching away at those spiral notebooks.

"That shouldn't be so bad," I say.

"I just… I can't have her reading my stuff," she says so quietly I almost don't hear her.

"Why?" I ask, knowing I'm pushing my luck.

"I can't! Okay?" she shouts. "Fuck," she mumbles under her breath.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Taylor is strangely quiet for the next two weeks. She goes to school, comes to work, and then retreats to her apartment. On her breaks I catch her writing in those damn notebooks.

Friday afternoon after our paychecks come in, she stops over at my apartment to drop off my mail. She still has hers sent to my box. There's something from her school, and she doesn't hesitate to rip it open. She reads quickly, her face growing angrier and angrier.

"That fucking prick!" she growls. I look up from my bills.

"What?" I ask.

"Bill didn't pay my tuition!" she says. "I need your phone."

"Call him tomorrow after you get yours," I say, protecting my cell. She plans to buy a cell phone with this paycheck.

"I can't believe he did this… just because I'm a journalism major instead of his precious pre-med… just because he's a fucking podiatrist doesn't mean I have to be some… ass surgeon or something…." She's really adorable when she gets angry. It's hard to take her seriously, just like it was with her mother. I grin at her, but she doesn't notice.

"How much is it?" I ask. She's too busy fuming. I think of the check from her grandmother, and the account I put it back into and haven't touched since. All of it eventually, and now more.

"What?" she finally asks, halting her tirade when she realizes I've said something.

"How much – is it?" I annunciate. My sarcasm is unavoidable.

"What, you gonna pay for it?" Apparently, it's hereditary.

I shrug.

"Seriously."

"Why not?" I answer. "You keep telling me how much I didn't pay for. I can manage a year of school. It's not like you're going to Northwestern." I regret my words and my tone instantly, but she doesn't even notice. If she were more like me, instead of her mother, she would have taken offense.

"It's just the one semester… eleven hundred," she says. It's almost like she's waiting for me to change my mind.

I don't say anything, but hold my hand out for the bill. She looks down at it briefly, as if taking one last quick look at a family photo, and she hands it to me.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

I am forced to wonder if every other Saturday is going to be spent this way. We wake up relatively early and go shopping. This week, Taylor buys towels and dishes, a cell phone of her own, and starts to rebuild her wardrobe. It's boring as hell for me, but I just sit back and let her do her thing. I'm really only there to drive her around.

To keep me interested, I decide to make a stop at Harry's for a late lunch or early breakfast, whatever you want to call it. Taylor's chatting away on her cell phone, calling all her friends in Shermer to give them her number. I'm looking around while we wait in line. I see a tall, leggy blonde park a minivan. She's dressed like she walked out of a magazine, even with those big, bug-eye sunglasses. One hand has a designer purse, the other a piece of paper. Taylor finishes her phone call and pockets her cell.

The Blonde steps into Harry's, and gets in line behind the last golf-playing business man. She scans the line ahead of her, but her eyes stop on me. I don't feel bad that she caught me watching her, but her face breaks into a wide grin. Then it dawns on me that I've seen her before.

She makes her way over to us. "Oh, my god!" She sounds excited.

"Oh, my god," Taylor says, sounding horrified.

"I didn't know you liked Harry's!" The Blonde is still smiling wide. For some reason I would have expected her to have a German accent, or something. "John, it's so good to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you!" She hugs me. Under any other circumstances, I'd be ecstatic.

"Sarah, right?" I ask as she releases me from her grip. She shifts her purse better onto her shoulder, and I catch a glimpse of the boulder on her wedding ring.

"Right!" She just keeps smiling. "This is great! I can't believe I've run into you guys!" She pats Taylor on the shoulder and rubs the top of her arm. I can see Taylor bristle. We move up in the line.

"So how's the writing going?" she asks Taylor. I can see the color drain from her face. But instead of looking nervously at her teacher, she flashes the weary glance at me.

"Fine," Taylor mumbles.

"She writes all the time," I volunteer. Taylor gives me a warning glance, so I only continue on. "Spends most of her free time doing it," I say, feeling my mouth pull into a spiteful grin.

"Excellent!" Sarah leaves her hand on Taylor's shoulder. "You know, my agent is always looking for new authors. I could probably set up an appointment if you like."

"It's not that good," Taylor says quickly.

"Agent?" I ask, talking over her.

"Literary agent. I'm actually working on my third right now. It got a bit delayed because of A.J., but it's coming right along now." I don't think this woman is capable of not smiling. "So do you like it?" she asks.

"Like what?" I ask, before I can think of something funnier.

"Her work," Sarah answers. I realize she means the writing, not her mechanical abilities.

"She doesn't let me read it," I answer. Taylor's jaw is clenched.

"Oh, that's a shame," she says. She turns to look at Taylor. "You know, he could probably give you pointers, help you fill in the details." We move up in line again. Taylor and I are next.

"What details?" I ask. Now I'm too interested to waste time with snappy one-liners.

"About the detention that day," she says, so offhandedly it's only too obvious that she's an outsider. My insides are suddenly filled with cement. Sarah looks between my face and Taylor's, and her smile fades. "She didn't tell you." It's not a question.

"Nope, can't say that she did," I say. Sarah looks at Taylor again.

"Well that's silly," she says, smiling again. "He's a wealth of information. Use it!" She pats Taylor on the back and looks at the counter. "You guys are next, I wouldn't want to cut in line," she says. After hasty goodbyes she goes back to her spot in line. Taylor is only too happy to distract herself ordering bagels.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: I just can't put into words how much you guys rock. Thank you all for such great, constructive reviews!

**Chapter 20**

A week passes after we meet Sarah, and Taylor's spent most of it silent. It's kind of bothering me how suddenly quiet she is. But now whenever I catch her writing on breaks, she looks at me with her eyes wide, like I've just caught her doing something terrible. I can't really blame her for giving me that look. It is terrible.

We order pizza every Friday night now. And every Friday night Ryan, the lip pierced pizza boy, delivers it. And then flirts with my daughter for a good five minutes. I just want my damn pizza.

Since this morning isn't a paycheck Saturday, I get to sleep in. I don't have to drive Taylor around the city buying god knows what. A little after noon, I wake up and go upstairs for some coffee. Taylor's like clockwork. She always makes the coffee at eleven, so it's not disgusting yet. She's not in the living room, so I can only assume she's in her bedroom, writing.

After I get down to my apartment, I turn on the TV and try to find something to watch. Something that's not Law & Order. I have to pass the time until Stubby's opens.

My door opens, and Taylor walks in, wearing a white undershirt and a pair of boxers I've never seen before. "I'm out of milk," she announces, going with her Harry's coffee cup towards the fridge. After she finishes that, she goes for a bowl of cereal and kicks the cupboard door shut.

There's a knock at the door, and she stops pouring her Lucky Charms. "I got it," she says, going towards the door. She looks through the peephole first, then jumps away like it's shocked her. "Fuck!" she whispers, then covers her mouth.

I turn the TV off and stand up, giving her a quizzical look. She turns to me wide eyed. "It's mom."


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update! My computer got a virus and we had to wipe it. Luckily, I'm a save freak, so I had already made back up copies, lol. Next part won't take as long, I promise.

**Chapter 21**

I'm in a trance as I move towards the door. I turn the TV off on my way. Taylor and I stand together, just staring at the door like it might bite us, or something retarded like nerds think. Because apparently, in my old age, I'm turning into Brian. Fuck! Why am I thinking about them right now?

There's another crisp knock on the door, and the two of us jump slightly. "Come on, guys. I know you're in there. I just heard the television go off." Claire's voice sounds exactly the same since the last day I heard it in person.

I look cautiously at Taylor. She shakes her head and raises her eyebrows to relieve herself from obligation. I sigh and grab the knob.

Claire's got her hair down, around her shoulders now, and loosely curled. She's still stunning, and I have to remind myself to breathe. We're both quiet for a moment, taking in the sight of each other.

"Hi, John," she says. I don't know if she wants to slap me or hug me.

I can't speak yet, so just nod. I step away from the door to let her in.

Taylor is standing with her arms crossed, looking sullen. Claire moves to her quickly, wrapping her arms around her. Taylor won't hug her back, but she tucks her chin onto Claire's shoulder. They break apart.

Claire pushes Taylor's hair away from her eyes. "Go get your things, honey. Let's go home."

Taylor takes a step backwards and looks at her mother as if she's just slapped her. "I am home."

Claire sighs heavily, and her posture changes just slightly. Just enough to show her mood has gone from concerned to annoyed. "Knock it off, Tay. Go get your stuff. We're leaving."

"No, you are." Taylor's stance has changed from vulnerable to stubborn. It's almost funny how similar they are. I'm suddenly very glad I've missed these teenaged fights. I know what it's like to argue with Claire.

"You may be almost eighteen, but you aren't yet. You're coming back to Shermer, and that's final."

"Why can't I stay here? I've got a job. I've got new friends, I'm in school-" Taylor starts.

"Not for much longer," Claire interrupts.

Taylor snorts. "Why? Cause Bill won't pay for it?" I can hear the disgust in his name. I can tell by the look on Claire's face she heard it, too.

"I'm getting really tired of this attitude you have towards your father-"

"_Step_-father," Taylor corrects quickly. I have to make sure I don't grin, even though I feel like I've just won something.

Claire sighs again and shakes her head. I can tell this was a very familiar argument. "Bill… Bill has been an excellent-"

"Bill touched me, mom! Bill abused me!" Taylor says, her arms flying to her side animatedly. I feel my insides burn hot.

Claire only rolls her eyes. "You are such a liar."

Taylor looks hurt, but clenches her jaw and scoffs, "You're right, mom. I am lying. Bill's a model fucking citizen. But thanks for taking half a second to wonder if it was true." Her voice is low and malevolent, but it works. Claire looks deflated, knowing she's failed Taylor's little test. I can't help but join Taylor in her anger.

"I'm staying," Taylor hisses. "And _that's_ final." She stomps out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her. Claire and I are alone.


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: Kendall rocks my socks.

**Chapter 22**

Claire stands still for a moment, then shakes her head slightly. "I just can't win with her." She turns and looks at me, and I can see that a few tears have escaped. "She's never going to forgive me for marrying Bill." Her voice is low, like she doesn't want to cry anymore.

I look at her for a moment more, then go into the kitchen to put away the milk. It's still on the counter.

"Aren't you going to say something? Tell me what a fabulous job I've done raising our daughter?" Her tone is harsh. She's looking for another argument. This is how every phone call has eventually ended.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is it my turn to start the fight? I thought it was yours," I say, coming back from the kitchen.

"You should have sent her home," Claire says.

"She threatened to sue me." I shrug.

"She's pregnant, John!" she shouts.

"She's not pregnant," I say, quick to help Taylor lie. Claire can never find out about the abortion. "She never was."

"What?"

"She said she made it up so you would let her get her G.E.D. She wanted to leave," I say. I think that's the story Taylor first told me.

Claire shakes her head again. She opens her mouth to try and say something, but nothing comes out. She wipes her cheek quickly. "She wonders why I never believe her." Claire takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.

"I have to take her home," she says.

"Why?" I ask. "What's so bad about her staying here?"

Claire laughs. "Are you kidding?"

"Do I ever?" I ask.

"She's seventeen, she's not in school-"

"She's in school," I say. We're talking faster now and our voices are becoming heated.

"She won't be for much longer. Bill won't pay for it," Claire says.

"And there's no other way to get funding?" I ask. Claire shakes her head again, as if to ward off the truth. She's silent again, only moving to wipe away tears and lick her lips. They're just as pouty and alluring as they were when she was seventeen.

She's quiet again for a while, just staring off into space. She's always done that when she's angry or upset. It still drives me nuts.

"He really touch her?" I ask.

"No. She was lying," Claire says.

"Are you sure?" I have to press the issue. I _have_ to. I need to know.

"God, John! Do you really think I'd keep my kids around him if I had ever seen anything suspicious?" Claire finally shouts back at me. I can't help but glare at her.

"Don't look at me like that," Claire commands.

"Like what, Princess?"

"Don't call me that!" she shouts.

"Why?" I ask. I want to keep her angry. It's easier to keep her away.

"You have no right to question my parenting, when you-" she's still shouting.

"She's got a tattoo! She buys her own beers and smokes, and she's not even legal! I'd say you've done a bang up job!" I shout over her.

"Stop it!" she screams, moving closer to me. I take a step back and bump into the wall.

"I bet mommy is so proud." I keep going.

"Shut up!" Her eyes are full of fury. She steps closer.

"And daddy! Oh, I bet daddy just _loves_ spending money on his precious, perfect grand-daughter." Sometimes she makes it too easy.

"_Stop it_!"

"Make me!" I shout over her.

Before I can react, she's thrown herself into me, pushing my back completely against the wall. Her lips are crushing mine.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: Obligitory smut warning! If it's not your thing, feel free to skip to the next chapter. :o) I didn't change the rating to 'M' because, well, I've written much more descriptive stuff, and I didn't think this was that bad. And as always, all thanks goes to Kendall.

A/N2: Also... I do not endorse adultery... in most cases. Just John and Claire. Or maybe... well, nevermind. I'll go on a tangent. :op

A/N3: Finally... so so SO sorry that it took so long to get up. I was having technical difficulties!

**Chapter 23**

Before I realize what's happening, my hands are in Claire's coat, pushing it off her shoulders. She's tugging at the bottom of my undershirt. We're making our way to my bedroom.

It's been way too long since this has happened. I haven't been with Claire since I left. Obviously. Still, it feels like we're seventeen again. She's stopped kissing me and is pulling her shirt off over her head. Her breasts are bigger than I remember. She's wearing an expensive looking bra. For a moment I wonder if maybe she had considered this happening. I pull my shirt off.

I still have my arms in my shirt when she grabs me again and kisses me. Claire's hands are warm as she slides them up my shoulders. Her hands have always been warm. Mine have always been cold. She pushes my hair away from my face, but keeps kissing me fiercely. Her thumb finds the diamond stud I still wear in my ear. There's a sudden intake of breath, and she's pulling me closer. I'm holding her as tightly as I can, and it's still not enough for me. Her hands make their way to my boxers and push them down as far as they can go without my help. My fingers undo her bra. Familiar work.

It doesn't take long to finish undressing and get on the bed. Another moment and it's just like old times. Claire's pulling my hair and her fingers are digging into my back, beneath my shoulder blade. Her pale legs are wrapped tightly around my thighs. I bite down on her shoulder, drawing a gasp, and I smile. I still want to make her mine, still want to see that mark. Claire's fingers wrap around the back of my neck, and she pulls me closer. I kiss her as much as I can, following her lips and making her follow mine. Her breath is hot on my cheeks.

Claire pulls away from my kiss and lets a small noise escape her throat. I open my eyes to watch her face. This only encourages me more, so I go harder, faster. More noises. I kiss her neck. A louder, less controlled noise. Her fingers press down, and her legs wrap tighter. If I hurry, we can finish at the same time.

Claire pulls me closer, and I can feel her breath on my shoulder. "John," she mutters. She sounds almost mournful.

Our bodies are finally still, and she is fighting to catch her breath. I rest my forehead against hers and kiss her softly. She briefly kisses me back, but then quickly moves away. I'm forced to roll over and watch her sit on the edge of the bed. She cradles her face in her hands. I pull the blankets up and lean my shoulders against the wall. I'm still just watching her. Claire stays where she is, head in her hands. Resigned, I reach for a cigarette.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Claire stays on the edge of the bed. She doesn't move or speak for many minutes. I finish my cigarette and stub it out in an ashtray by the bed. She reaches a hand out and runs a finger over the strings of my electric guitar.

"Do you still play?" she asks.

"Yeah," I say.

She's quiet again. Her fingers pluck the strings slowly, but she leaves the guitar against the wall. She pulls her hand back quickly. "I always thought you should have been in a band."

"I was for a while," I answer. I'm still watching her. She's watching the wall. She takes a deep breath, but says nothing. We stay quiet for a long time. I reach for my pack again.

"Why didn't you ask me to marry you?" she asks suddenly.

I slowly pull another cigarette out. There's no point in avoiding the subject. No point in avoiding the truth. "I wanted you to have a wedding."

Claire's still staring at the wall, away from me. "My parents would have paid for everything." She finishes her sentence too quickly, realizing it's dangerous ground. Surprisingly enough, it doesn't bother me as much as it would have fifteen years ago. I choose not to answer, to let her think she's said the wrong thing. I light my cigarette.

"Were you ever going to ask?"

"Yes." I blow smoke out from the first drag.

"Where would you have taken me on our honeymoon?" she asks. Her voice is still low and soft.

I know the answer to this, so don't hesitate to answer. "Paris."

Claire laughs, throwing her head back to look at the ceiling. But her laugh isn't like I remember. It's almost cynical, but not quite. I can see a tear drop down her face.

"You said the day I met you that you wished you were on a plane to France," I say. Mostly because I don't know what to do when she cries. I hate it when she cries.

She turns and looks at me, her eyes sparkling. "I remember."

Claire makes her way back over to me and settles in next to me. She rests her head on my shoulder, so I run my free hand through her hair. At least she stopped crying.

"Bill asked me where I wanted to go…." She trails off. "The day he came home with the plane tickets he was so excited… proud of himself." Her voice is bitter now. "We went to Hawaii."

She sighs, but no more tears come. I kiss her forehead. "Why'd you marry him?"

"I had to," she answers. I take another drag. "I couldn't live with Mark forever. Everyone saw the single mom package and ran." I didn't realize she and Taylor had moved in with her brother. By the time I talked to her again after I left, she was married.

I can feel the next question bubbling up in my throat. I might not have a chance to ask it again. After today we'll go back to occasional phone arguments. I wish I could just shut up like Andy, but I'm going to let it out instead. "Would you have left me?"

She sits up and looks at me. "No." Her eyes narrow and she looks at my face. I look away, busying myself with putting out my cigarette.

"Is that what you thought?" she asks. I choose to stay silent, to keep looking at the ashtray. Claire pulls my face towards her and kisses me. It quickly turns into more, and she swings one leg over me. I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. The covers quickly get pushed out of the way. I feel like a teenager again.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

We lay together for a while, but neither of us fall asleep. Both of us are on our sides, facing each other. We take turns looking at the other one, neither of us talking. My hand is resting on her hip. Claire puts her hand on my face, thumb by my ear and fingers at the base of my neck. She kisses my forehead, then kisses me lightly and quickly on the lips.

But I don't have a chance to turn it into round three. Before I can hold her in bed, she's up and gathering her clothes. I don't remember her moving that fast. Maybe I just got slower. I watch her begin to get dressed. I sit up in bed and rest against the wall again.

"I have to talk to Taylor," Claire says. She's buttoning her pants. "Do you know where she might have gone?"

"Probably to her apartment," I answer. The look on Claire's face is priceless. She makes it so easy sometimes.

"She has her own apartment?" she asks. I nod, still watching her dress.

"612," I say. Claire nods and finishes putting her clothes back on. She stops and looks at me. Carefully, she crosses the room and kisses me one last time. I secretly hope this isn't the last one, but a part of me knows it is. She says nothing else, but looks at me for a moment more. She leaves.

For a few minutes I just sit in bed. I don't even bother to smoke. I can feel the emotional weight I've shoved off over the years rushing back. I can see Brian and his kids. Sarah and her annoying, incessant smile. Claire. Her bright hair and her dark eyes.

I can't stand it another minute. It's way too sappy, too nerdy, too… Allison. I get out of bed and go straight into the shower. I make it hotter than I'm used to so I can focus on something other than them. After the shower I busy myself with changing my sheets.

When I'm dressed again I go into the living room. I can hear Taylor crunching away in the kitchen. She must have slipped in when I was in the shower. A new bowl of cereal is in her hands. We stare at each other for a moment.

"Mom left," she says. Then she watches me, as if to gauge my reaction. I do my best to do nothing. "I need the car," she adds.

"Fine. Just drop me off somewhere," I say. I go to the refrigerator and drink milk from the carton.

Taylor scrunches her nose slightly, but says nothing. "Don't you want to know where I'm going?" she asks. Baiting.

"No." Her eyes widen slightly, but I don't know if it's surprise or disappointment. Either way, I don't really care.

* * *

A/N: Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that the story is done. There are thirty chapters in all, so only five more to go:o)


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

As we're walking to the car I toss her the keys. I don't feel much like driving. I think my silence is unnerving her, because she mumbles, "Thanks."

I give her minimal directions to Stubby's. As we're pulling out of our parking garage, some idiot comes flying out of nowhere. He lays on the horn and swerves around us, but Taylor is forced to swerve, too. She slams on the brake, taking a deep breath as soon as we're in the clear.

"Fuck," she mutters. "What an asshole."

I look down to see that her tote has tumbled over and spilled some of its contents at my feet. A blue spiral notebook is on top of the shit mount that's fallen out. She even drew that little, dumbass 'TBC' symbol on it that Brian came up with in school. Nerd.

The car doesn't start moving again, so I look up at her. She's watching me, then her eyes flick down to the notebook. She looks at me with a smirk. "You can read it if you want."

I snort. "No."

She looks insulted. "God, I was just trying to be nice." She floors it, causing the tires to squeal.

"Nice?" I scoff. She looks at me, her dark eyes on fire. "Nice would be minding your own fucking business."

"What?" Her voice cracks.

"What?" I mimic, voice crack and all. She stares at the road, holding tightly to the wheel.

"You're a dickwad," she mutters. She actually sounds hurt. Good.

"What the hell do you know about it anyway?" I can feel the anger rising in my chest. I clench my jaw and look out the window. It was just a goddamn detention, I remind myself.

"I can write whatever I want," she says, her voice shaking.

"You have no right!" I shout, turning to look at her.

"_You_ have no right to tell me what to do!" she screams.

"It's not your life you're fucking with!" I shout back. I do my best to look away again. I can feel myself getting closer and closer to what's really bothering me. And I don't want that. I'd rather take it out on her. Besides, it's her fault I'm even thinking about them.

A red light stops us. "What the fuck do you think you know about my life?" she asks. I choose not to answer this one. "The part where I was shitting in diapers? Or the part where I was learning to talk?" Her voice is heated almost as much as mine.

"Or wait," she says, her voice lower now. "Was that after you ran away like a pussy?"

"I don't have to deal with this bullshit," I say. I throw the car door open and get out, then slam it behind me. The light turns and she flies off, leaving me on the sidewalk.

I don't even bother to watch her drive away, even though it _is_ my car. I stuff my hands in my pockets and start down the street.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

The bar is a welcome sight after the bus ride. It's early afternoon, but Stu lets me in after I knock on the door. He nods to me as he's letting me in.

"You look like shit, man," he says. He chuckles and claps me on the shoulder.

"Rough fucking day," I mutter, and go towards the usual stool towards the left side. That's where the cash register is, so Stu spends most of his time behind the bar there. And once, some jackass tried something, so I roughed him up. I think that's the real reason I usually drink for free.

Stu sets a beer in front of me, still in the bottle. "Wanna talk about it?"

"You a shrink now?" I ask, popping the cap off. Stu laughs, but says nothing else. We've come to understand one another over the years. Hell, I probably _should_ pay him to be my therapist.

Travis arrives when I'm on my third beer. Stu sees him come in and they exchange warm greetings. I watch as Travis glances at me out of the corner of his eye. "Round of Jack, please and thank you," he says.

As Travis sits down, Stu sets down three shot glasses and the bottle. "If you're not careful, you know you're going to lose her," Travis says quietly.

"Who cares?" I ask, doing my first shot. Stu refills it.

"You do, obviously," Travis answers, and does his shot. Stu has one with us, then busies himself elsewhere. Travis settles in and opens the beer that was set out for him. I throw back the third, then close my eyes and rest my head against my hand. I'm just starting to feel the buzz.

"She's reaching out to you, y'know. She could have gone anywhere, but she found you. She didn't have to," Travis says. It has been a few minutes, but he somehow knows when it's safe to talk and when it's not.

"I know," I mutter. Great, I'm losing the language filter early. Stu gives us two more beers. We're still the only people here. Travis is quiet again for a long time. It's almost more effective.

"So, uh… who's the lady?" he asks.

I feel my hands go cold. "What?"

"C'mon John, your hair's damp, and you've got yourself a fresh love bite," he says. He laughs and pokes me on the neck, "Right there." I hit his hand away, but don't answer. Instead I pour another shot. Travis is still just watching me. If it were anyone else, I would hit them in the teeth.

After a moment, he finally asks, "Taylor's mom?" I stare at the counter, but nod slightly. Then we lapse into silence again. A few people wander in, but no one we know. I drank too fast on an empty stomach, and I can feel it catching up to me. I'm taking longer to blink. How annoying.

I can feel the words coming up my throat, but I can't stop them. "Do you ever talk to your buddies from Vietnam?" I ask. I have a feeling that if anyone else had asked him that, they would have gotten the punch to the teeth.

"Of course," he says.

"Really?" I ask.

He nods. "Yeah, talking to them can remind me of the bad times. But there's a sense of companionship that I've got with those boys that no one else has ever given me." I just stare ahead. Travis takes a sip of his beer. He turns and looks at me.

"So if I start having bad memories of the time over there, I just call 'em up. Yeah, it blows at first, but y'know, after a few minutes, I just get this overwhelming feeling of… solace," he says. "Does my heart good." He pats his chest, then drinks his beer.

"Regular fucking poet," I mutter, smiling to try and lighten the mood. I don't want him to know that his words slammed into my chest and turned my insides to ice.

I'm saved, luckily, when I hear two familiar voices enter the bar. I glance over my shoulder to see Dave and Matt. Travis says nothing more, but raises his beer in a toasting manner. I nod and do the same.


	28. Chapter 28

A/N: Two more chapters left! I'm so excited!

**Chapter 28**

The next six weeks are quiet. Taylor hardly spoke to me for the first week or so, but after we established our routine, the conversation became less and less awkward. She doesn't let me see her write anymore. That helps.

The Friday before her birthday, she makes a point of talking about her birthday plans. She never asks me to borrow my car to drive out to Shermer. Just casually mentions it. It drives me crazy.

This morning she comes into my apartment. I'm eating cereal and watching Scarface. I'm fully dressed, shoes and all, which must surprise her. "Going somewhere?" she asks.

"No," I say casually. She looks me over for a bit. It is way too early for me to even be awake, let alone dressed.

"I need the car," she says.

"No," I say, still casual.

Her brow furrows. "What?"

"I said, no. You can't take my car." I can feel the keys burning a hole in my pocket.

Her posture changes to that annoying, stubborn teenager stance. "How am I supposed to get to Shermer?" she asks.

"Take your own damn car." I pull the set of keys out of my pocket and throw it to her. Without blinking, she catches the keys, then looks at them strangely.

"What?" she asks, still staring at them.

I can't contain my smile anymore. "Happy Birthday."

"What?" she asks again.

"Come on, the boys parked it downstairs," I say. I wish they could all see the look on her face. I have to remind myself not to laugh at her.

"Seriously." she says, this time her voice skeptical. I raise an eyebrow and leave the apartment. She follows me out quickly, holding her tote down with one hand and clutching the keys in the other.

I'm waiting for the elevator when she catches up. "Oh, my god. You're not kidding."

"Why would I?" I ask. The doors open and we step in.

She looks at me slightly wide eyed, but instead of answering with something like 'Because you're usually a fucktard,' she says, "You really bought me a car!"

"Well, I didn't _buy_ one. Not the way you're thinking," I say. The elevator is slowly descending into the parking level below the building. She bounces a little on her toes. She makes a squeaking noise and covers her face. I laugh instead of cringe, to my surprise.

The doors slide open and she anxiously follows me into the rows of cars. "Under no circumstances are you allowed to name it, paint it orange, or modify the horn," I say. She may think it's a joke, but if she changes it at all I'll kill her.

"Oh, my god!" she says, running up to the slate colored Charger. She looks at me, but doesn't have the chance to ask. I nod, and she squeaks again. She runs her hand over the back slant of the roof.

"A '66?" she asks.

"We've been working on it while you were at school," I said. It was Travis's idea, but I did the bulk of the work. Though, the others did pitch in.

She walks around, surveying it. There's an enormous smile plastered on her face. She stops and shifts her bag on her shoulder. Taylor turns and looks at me with the smile wide, then lurches forward like she's going to hug me. Her arms even fly up a little. She stops herself though, and her smile flickers.

"Thanks, John," she says, and pats my arm. I grin and nod.

"No problem."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

For the last ten years or so, I've celebrated Thanksgiving with Travis and his family. I'm not that big into the holidays. My memories of them are not the fondest. Taylor, however, decided to have Thanksgiving with her mother. I can't blame her, really. It's all about the food, anyway.

Travis and Cheryl have three kids. Their youngest, Mike, is with his wife's family, but the other two, Jeff and Sophie are there with their families. It's not too bad. There are only three kids, but they're all old enough to feed themselves. Not annoying.

Halfway through pie, my cell phone goes off. I see it's Claire's number from Shermer. I assume it's Taylor and answer.

"Hello?" I rise from the table and step into the living room.

It's quiet for a moment. "Hi, John," Claire says.

I stop walking for a moment. "Hey."

"Happy Thanksgiving," she says. Her voice is very subdued.

"Likewise," I say. There's another moment of silence, and I begin to wonder if something is wrong. "Taylor get there okay?"

"Oh, yes," Claire says. She's quiet for a little bit. Holding back. "I just wanted-" She stops suddenly.

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Sorry," Claire says. She takes a breath. "One of the kids. Anyway, I just wanted to see if you had plans for Christmas."

"Christmas?" I ask. The last Christmases have been spent sleeping in and watching old movies.

"Taylor and I were talking after dinner. She wants to come down here for Christmas, and we would really like it if you would join us."

"Yeah, okay," I say before I can change my mind. I instantly regret it.

"Great. Well…." she trails off.

"See you then," I prompt.

"Great. Happy Thanksgiving," she says.

"You already said that," I tease. I can hear her smile on the other line.

"Bye, John." She hangs up.


	30. Chapter 30

A/N: Wow. I can't believe I'm done. Now I can focus on the other three stories I started, lmao. Sorry it took a bit longer than usual to post, but I kept avoiding getting it up here cause I didn't want to admit I was done. Or something sentimental like that. Thanks so much to all of you who have read and reviewed. And thanks SO SO MUCH to Kendall. She is incredible. Words can't explain how grateful I am to her for all the late nights of giggling and brainstorming.

**Chapter 30**

The next month is a blur. I spend most of it thinking about seeing Claire again. With her husband. And the other half thinking about making excuses for ditching. I know, though, that Taylor won't let me run off.

The drive to Shermer on Christmas Eve goes much too fast for my liking. Claire still lives on the hill, not too far from the house she grew up in. Taylor's driving.

When we pull up in front of the house, there are already a few other cars parked on the street. One of them is the minivan from Harry's. Shit.

Taylor opens the trunk and pulls out the bag of gifts. I didn't buy any of them, but she put my name on the tags. I turned her loose with my credit card two weeks ago. I shudder to think of the bill I'll get next month.

As we approach the door I feel my stomach fill with stone. She doesn't bother to knock, just opens the door. I step into the foyer, and the tile on the floor makes me remember Claire's mother. I hope to god she's not here.

"Hi everyone!" Taylor shouts from the foyer.

"Taylor!" some random children shout from the living room. I follow behind silently. Taylor sets the bag down just in time to be tackled by two blonde girls. I recognize them from the birth announcement Brian sent. She picks the smaller one up and holds the hand of the other one, leaving the presents by the coat closet. I take my coat off.

The first one I see is Allison. She looks almost the same. Her hair's a little longer, and she doesn't have the black shit anymore. She hugs Taylor and kisses her on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, sweetie," she says.

Her dark eyes catch mine. She looks at me for a moment, and I look back. Her smile grows slowly. I smile back. I try not to. She hugs me, and I hug her quickly. "Hi, stranger."

"Hi," I say, patting her back.

She pulls away. "Long time, no see."

"Sorry," I mutter, then remind myself not to be sarcastic on Christmas. That's got to be a sin, right?

I step into the room and see the rest of them there. Andy's sitting on a couch near the tree, holding a drink in his hand. I nod in his direction. His facial expression is mixed, but he nods back. Brian stands and shakes my hand, then does that quick, back slapping guy hug. He says nothing, but he's doing his best to suppress that nerd smirk of his. Like he's just dying to say something about the 'Prodigal Son' or something.

"Hi, John." Sarah smiles. She stands up and hugs me. I bet she was in a sorority. There's a sleeping baby in a car seat on the floor next to Brian. Four boys are playing in the middle of the room. One of them is Brian's little toe-head from the picture. He's playing with a dark haired little boy. The older two are occupied with handheld videogames.

The only person I don't recognize is a balding man on the couch next to Andy. He's wearing a long sleeved, button down shirt and khaki pants. Barf me. This must be Billy Boy. I take a seat next to Taylor on the third, and last, couch. The two little blondes are fighting for her attention, showing off hair ribbons and Christmas dresses.

I hear high heels on the tile in the foyer. I turn to see Claire make her way into the living room with us. She's holding an infant against her shoulder. She's also wearing a cocktail dress. I quickly remind myself she's married. She looks a bit chubbier in the face than she did a few months ago. And her boobs are bigger. If they keep getting bigger every time I see her, I might have to keep in touch.

I turn to look at Taylor. She's watching me with a knowing smile. I look away. I see the rest of them are watching me, too. Cause that's going to help my nervousness. Fuckers.

Claire smiles when she sees me. "Hi, John," she says. I stand, and she kisses me on the cheek, then hugs me. She sits down next to Taylor. My eyes follow Claire, then move over to Allison. She's sitting on the floor next to Andy's legs. Close to the younger set of boys on the floor, but she's watching me. She looks at Claire momentarily, then back at me. Allison doesn't do anything without a reason. I know her well enough to know that.

I narrow my eyes and look at Claire. Her rounder face, her plumped breasts. My eyes move down to her stomach. When I look back at Allison again, she raises an eyebrow. I look at the floor. Shit.

"Merry Christmas, everyone," Claire says to break the silence. I half expect Tiny Tim to come hobbling in any moment.

"Does that mean we can open presents now?" the younger of the girls asks.

Andy is the loudest to laugh. Taylor stands up to get the presents from the entry way. I watch the rest of them watch her and remember how crazy they all were about her. She leaves her coats in there. The boys on the floor have abandoned their video games and start to pull presents out from under the tree.

I look around the rooms at the faces of my friends. I don't feel like I should be allowed to call them that anymore, but I do.


End file.
